Hellsing Blood
by maroongrad
Summary: Abraham has been dead and buried a century. Integra is trapped, waiting in a cell in the Tower of London. Arthur and Richard have been dead a decade or more. So why is Alucard catching Abraham's scent among the battle-scarred ruins of London? New story, unrelated to others.
1. Chapter 1

Alucard was quiet. Seras was unnerved by this. Sure, Master was often quiet; spookily silent, brooding, radiating a quiet malevolence or urge to kill and rend. She had asked what he was thinking about only once, and he'd been absolutely honest. She'd had nightmares for days.

This was a different silence. Thoughtful, contemplative, calm, and not at all murderous. That was almost even more unnerving! With Sir Hellsing still locked into the Tower and Alucard forbidden from taking her out, they'd been...bored. Alucard had fretted and paced and stalked, half-mad from sheer inactivity, then lounged in his chair, glaring his hate into the darkness of his room. The last few weeks had been very tense, and the silence from her Master had been almost overwhelmingly loud.

She'd convinced him to go out with her to clean up a few pockets of ghouls. To her, it was helping protect the citizens of London. Regular police just weren't up to the task and more than a few of the freak vampires were still out and biting, just more cunning about it. Taking out a dozen ghouls had given her a sense of purpose again, of being needed. To Alucard, it had been a chance to blow things into little bits.

A raid on a local hospital (well, its remains) had netted them dozens of blood bags. They were meant for humans, but what was left of the humans had been evacuated, the last of them leaving a day earlier when the generators had run out of fuel. The blood wouldn't have been good for more than a couple days. Maybe someone would have come and gotten it, but maybe not...and she had stolen it (and her a cop!) and dined well.

Master had been distracted then, leaving her to find the cooler, find a container to move the bags, and fill it with the chill red plasma. She'd snacked on one while working, but Master...he simply stared about, looking almost stunned, inhaling the air in unnecessary breaths, almost sniffing.

He'd been distracted the entire trip back, and now...this entirely unnatural quiet. Seras shivered and went back to her own room. She'd found a small pile of outdated magazines in a room off the lobby, probably put there for guests to read through. The fashions were years out of style, the celebrities of the time now in rehab (well, not all, it just seemed that way), but it was still SOMETHING to read. And it wasn't Master!

x x xx x x

He'd been in London only a handful of days and had already destroyed more Midians than in the decade previously. Just a few freaks, the rest ghouls, not a single real vampire much less anything with any actual power. Still, it was a chance to destroy monsters and shed blood and better by far than being stuck at the Vatican for another moment. If only it wasn't in England. But...there were Catholics here among the heathen, and with Hellsing taken down, there was no one to protect them.

And so he'd come to protect them. An internal honesty made him admit that was only the excuse. He'd come here for the bloodshed and the fighting and the chance, however slight, that Alucard would reappear and he'd have a chance to send that monster to Hell. If his little blonde demon had made it through the battle she'd be following right behind him.

He'd found all the ridiculously-easy-to-locate ghouls already. Places where people were unable to run and hide easily. Nursing homes, hospitals, and (this made his blood boil!) nurseries and preschools. The elderly, made into ghouls in the years when peaceful retirement was their lot, were tragic but the tiny ghouls swarming about the schoolyard were heartbreaking.

He'd started the evening off well enough, with a good solid lead on another enclave of left-over ghouls. And now he was standing in the midst of a dust-strewn yard, ankle-deep in the grey powder, eyeing a suspiciously large set of holes blown into the brick wall in front of him. Someone had already destroyed the ghouls, not long before he arrived on the scene himself. With those enormous bullet holes, he had a very good idea of just who had done this.

The bloodthirsty grin spreading across his face would have sent any remaining Midians scurrying.

x x xx x x

He'd smelled Abraham. Impossible, the first human to best him had been dead for a century. But Abraham's scent, uniquely the man's own, had been at the hospital. Weak, diluted by time and weather... but THERE. It wasn't Integra; she carried traces of what he'd mentally labeled the "Hellsing Scent", but hers was different, feminine...and currently restricted to that blasted cell. Arthur's scent had been much closer to Abraham's...and also reeked of alcohol, tobacco, and the various perfumes of his chosen lady-of-the-hour. This...this was Abraham.

Unsettling. He had many memories, complex ones, and had never come to terms with how he viewed Van Helsing. He'd been relieved to have someone to follow, to no longer be trapped in the role of leader (to his country, his family, his servants). Abraham had been a strong leader that he could respect. But the man had also been staunchly, deeply religious in a dedicated and fervent way. It made him generous to children, supportive of the poverty-stricken, gentle with his human servants, and full of hatred to his vampiric slave. The man was too Christian to ever *act* on that hatred and scorn, but at the same time...it had not been a comfortable experience. There was always the knowledge that the human that had earned his respect considered him nothing more than unholy filth, good only for slaughtering other filth, a necessary evil that was only grudgingly accepted.

And now, a century later, that cold, wrinkled, age-spotted, withered corpse he'd seen lowered into the ground had been at the hospital. He'd left Seras asleep in the afternoon, returning to the site, wandering about the crumbling cement-and-iron building in search of information, clues, anything,and found a few stronger pockets of scent in sheltered areas. Abraham's scent.

Entirely unnerving. He was content as a servant, Integra knew he was a monster and treated him as such but, also, as more than a monster. He was valued for his experience and insight and hard-won wisdom...and for his wit and companionship. Serving the Hellsings was a gift, not a curse, granting both freedom and restraint, excitement and safety.

If Abraham was somehow back (and he himself knew how fleeting the hold of a grave could be) then his very comfortable existence could be altered. Would he be glad to see the man that had honestly and fairly dealt with him, given him a broader existence, provided him with this pleasant interlude? Would he be angry? Even frightened, wary of the man's scorn?

At least Seras had the wit to stay well away while he, admittedly, brooded. He was unsettled enough to be unfair to his child, snappish and touchy, and her bouncing personality and insatiable curiosity could go over very badly...

(the following is a future chapter. It'll fit in somewhere but I haven't nearly gotten to that point yet! Enjoy the "sneak preview"!)

It had been bound to happen. He'd reported to Master, as he was expected to, that Paladin Anderson was back in Britain. She'd been enraged, and while it had been delightful to see her so worked up and agitated, she still was not well. What would have triggered nothing but glee a mere month ago now caused him to calm her, soothe her, reassure her that he would be careful, would keep Seras away from the man, would restrain his own impulse to go find his foe and have one glorious battle. She was still replacing lost blood, her neck was healing but a spike in blood pressure would put unacceptable force on weak, barely-healed vessels. She was physically frail, whether she would admit it or not, and he left from his nightly visit roiled internally.

She'd said No. Not unexpected, but still. Forbidden him from fighting the Paladin, though at least she didn't grudge him the right to protect himself. But he was expected to FLEE...and that rankled.

Before he went back to Police Girl and her incessant questions about Integra and her worries and fussing, he'd take the time to do some solitary hunting of his own. Perhaps blowing a few ghouls away would help calm him down. He'd rather rip apart the guards at the Tower, eat the Round Table, massacre a few fools...but Master said no. So he'd hunt instead and settle his emotions with some good old-fashioned carnage.


	2. Chapter 2

(I had two new reviews and messages begging me to continue this story. I should be working right now. I'll be up late because I posted this. But I'm still glad I wrote this short bit! The story is NOT dead...if you want more chapters on a story, remind me that it exists and has readers waiting and I'm likely to try and turn out a new chapter. Short, but at least it's here!)

Hellsing Blood 2

He paced. Up stairways, down hallways, through courtyards, threading his way through rooms full of dusty draped furniture and past the dining room's gleaming chairs and polished tables. Integra's scent was there, but fading as the weeks passed. Arthur's scent had been gone before he awoke from his decades-long rest, only the faintest ghost of stale scent found lingering in the bottoms of chests of the man's clothing, and that scent as much imagination as real. Not even the ghost of Abraham's scent remained, hadn't since before he'd met Walter.

If the Hellsing was back, and in London...at some point he'd return to his home, come back to the Hellsing Estate, wander these same halls.

But not now. No, only Integra's scent filled these halls, and as he paced through them, searching for any wisp of Abraham's scent, he almost feared rounding a corner and finding himself facing the man. But Integra's scent remained, and only hers, and as the night wore on and each and every room of the house, every closet and cabinet and corridor, Alucard's steps slowed, his shoulders relaxed. The tension and uncertainty would have been stressful enough under any circumstance, but with Integra so far away and her own future uncertain, even the supremely confident monster had found himself affected.

His last steps found him standing in front of the sturdily elegant doors of her office. He'd left it to the last; if he found his old Master in the house, this was the most likely room. With no scent on the doors, no sound in the room, Alucard opened them with a minimum of trepidation.

Moonlight glowed through the curtains, throwing silver bars on the carpet of the vacant room. Eyes closing briefly in a quiet moment of relief, Alucard rested his forehead on the cool wood of the door. Walking down the hall, the doors clicking shut behind him, he pondered his next move.

If Mohammed would not come to the mountain, the mountain would come to Mohammed. He would leave to find his Mohammed. London was an immense city, now an immense ruin...but what else would he be doing? With Integra locked away on false charges, he remained inclined to let the proof of her integrity continue to wander about biting the English. Clearing away ghouls was entertaining, but he had no interest in protecting the humans as his little Police Girl did.

The more of them were turned, the more bodies accumulated, the more obvious Integra's true role would be, and the need for her to return to that role would be glaring. Fools, the lot of them, taking away the wielder of the only weapons capable of clearing away this mess. Hunting for Abraham would at least fill his nights and end his brooding, though he wasn't certain whether or not he wanted those hunts to succeed.


	3. Chapter 3

(all words, not much action, but at least I got another chapter up! Thanks for all the reviews!)

He'd left Seras asleep in her coffin, unable to rest fully himself. Taking his guns in the off-chance (but still a chance) that he'd encounter ghouls hiding in the dark interior of a building, he'd left the Estate to hunt for Abraham. A small, rage-filled, interior voice pressed him to use those guns on Abraham himself...another voice told him he'd only be disappointed again.

Decades, more than half a century of complacent existence, content in service to the Hellsing family under Arthur and then Integra...and Abraham had returned. Good, bad, irrelevant...was his Master avoiding him? Hunting him, wanting to destroy him and now free to do so? Disgusted by him, no longer needing to use him and so ignoring him? Angry at him for his failure to protect Integra, at the destruction of London? Perhaps it was that failure or that destruction that had called the man back?

Did he want to see him? He'd tried very hard to be a good servant, wanting to earn the respect of the only man to earn his own. He'd never been mistreated, and was at time almost appalled at his need to be appreciated, noticed, to receive the slightest approval. Abraham noticed his sacrifice and effort no more than Abraham's God had noticed his sacrifice and effort when he'd lived and fought the armies invading his lands. The rare times he'd failed in his service to Hellsing, he'd wondered, nearly expected, that Abraham would destroy him.

He hadn't been forced into servitude, but it hadn't been entirely voluntary either...and it had rankled and festered for nearly a century that he'd been controlled and Mastered by someone that didn't want him, kept him only out of duty, took no pride in the accomplishment, and viewed the use of him as a distasteful necessity. Never the slightest recognition or approval of what he'd done, only scorn and the lightly veiled threat of destruction if he did not meet the high standards of his Master.

Would Abraham still view him as a monster, good only for killing, and that should be put down without a second thought as soon as he was no longer useful? Would Abraham's own death have changed the man's mind and heart?

And so Alucard stalked through the tumbled ruins of London, face expressionless while his emotions roiled within him. He truly needed to destroy something, another fight, another Incognito, some bloody battle to settle himself, root himself in the familiar. The Underground... Yes. Dark, full of travelers during the battle...there would be ghouls there. Not much of a challenge...none at all, really... weaker still because of the day. But they'd make up in quantity what they lacked in quality. He'd use his hands and paint the tube red with their blood.

Walking faster, he slipped down the entrance ramp and into the dark quiet of the subway. Not entirely quiet...there was the faint shuffling of mindless ghouls.

His wide grin split his face, teeth gleaming, as he strode towards his prey.


	4. Chapter 4

(long chapters are unlikely, this is as long as they get. It's very wordy...I really ought to take out all the details on Seras's stash and replace it with a couple sentences, but ah well. It may be a week or more before I get another chapter up. Thank you all for the reviews!)

Hellsing Ch 4

One by one, a neck snapped here, an arm ripped off there... He'd made it a game, to start with the bald ghoul and work his way through to the ones with the longest hair. Simply slaughtering them would take no time at all.

Spotting the hairstyles (and lack thereof) of a dozen-plus milling ghouls was much more challenging. And he'd refused to unlock any of his levels of power, or to pull his guns. By the time the last ghoul ashed, he was satisfyingly sticky with blood and coated in gore. They may have been weakened to an even more abysmal level of useless by the daytime, but still...the ghouls bled well and retained the crunches and snaps that made ripping them apart so pleasant.

Humming to himself, Alucard stepped over the bits of blood-soaked clothes and ash-coated shoes, heading back up the stairway to the unpleasantly bright gloomy London day. Even cloudy, the blood soaking his coat would turn to ash and blow away in the grey light, and he was sufficiently tired and satisfied to prefer that to the sticky mess he'd become. Fun in the midst of slaughter and shortly afterwards, unpleasant when the rush of killing had faded to a pleasant daylight fatigue.

Wandering through the city, admiring the wreckage with a connoisseur's eye, he went in search of more ghouls. Not with any real intent, however...he was tired from the last few days' stress, the bloodbath of that morning, and the daylight itself. He'd managed to forget about the return of Abraham, Integra's imprisonment, the lack of direction in his life, and was still sleepily content with the carnage, when the groans and shuffling of more ghouls drifted to him on the breeze.

He almost ignored them to go home, pondering bringing Seras back in the night to indulge in a little destruction, but changed his mind. Ghouls that weren't contained behind walls (and really, a closed door could stop them. Very few ghouls could handle a concept as difficult as a doorknob.) could wander. If this lot was still mobile, they were likely in the sewers. And he had no wish to go track them through the filth. Best to locate them, perhaps trap them for Seras to handle later. She needed to indulge her vampire side in slaughter a bit more often. She was certainly a Draculina to be proud of, but too human yet.

Threading his way past crashed cars and tumbled masonry, Alucard followed the faint sound and then faint stench of ghouls. Blocks passed under his booted feet and brought him to a cinema, the dark interior a haven for ghouls. Ghouls...and something else?

Stepping into the cool darkness he felt himself relax even more, moving towards the groaning and rasping, crushing the occasional spill of popcorn and random internal organ. Whatever the sign above the door had claimed, what was now showing was something quite different. Opening it to peer in, Alucard froze, door open a bare few centimeters. It wasn't just ghouls in there.

Someone else was playing with them. A tall someone, throwing bayonets about like rice at a wedding, indulging himself in a bit of bloody slaughter.

At night, Alucard knew he'd have welcomed the challenge, brawled with the Paladin with a grin that matched his rival's, fought until one of them had succeeded in ripping, slicing, shooting, and tearing the other into unredeemable bits. Even now, the glorious battle that would ensue tugged at him.

Abraham had taught him the folly of arrogance and to pick his battles wisely. He'd forgotten then when he left his human form and weaknesses behind and been rudely and permanently reminded of them by a mere human who had never for a moment let slip that caution. It was daylight. Integra, his Master, had no idea where he was, would not know what had happened...might remain trapped until her mortality took her. He was tired, worn with the pacing and restlessness, out in the daylight for too long, awake when he should be sleeping. And he had a Draculina to think of. She was powerful, brave...and not yet ready to walk the night on her own. Strong, amazingly determined, but if the Paladin succeeded, she was no match for the man. A defeat would mean her death.

Not while she was his responsibility. Not while he'd given Integra his loyalty.

The fun would have to wait. But Anderson was on the Island. He'd find the man later, battle at a time and place of his choosing. Perhaps he'd finally die...but not before he'd fulfilled the responsibilities he'd accepted.

The door closed quietly behind him, the bloody, joyful carnage left regretfully as he returned to the streets. Far enough away that he judged the Paladin would be unlikely to detect him (and was the Paladin sensitive to such things? He did not know, but best not to wave a red cape in front of that bull, not yet), he disappeared into the shadows.

Coming out, he went to stand in front of his creation's coffin. She was almost ready...he would make certain that she had a way to escape the Paladin. The man would come here looking for them. Money, she would need modern money, a way to leave Britain, soil, another coffin to travel...he would not be resting, yet.

With a regretful glance towards his own chambers and the comforting dark waiting confines of his coffin, he began to prepare. Money, taken from Walter's "petty cash" fund, from raiding Integra's desk, the purse she never used. Jewels. If they were not needed, they could be replaced. Integra used them as little as possible but nevertheless had a noblewoman's complement of gilded glittering baubles. A coffin... Seras wasn't bonded to hers. She hadn't been buried in it, hadn't slept in it enough to need it, specifically.

Her coffin could be replaced. The soil couldn't.

Back down to the storeroom. She had boxes there, alongside the mouldering crates of his own soil. That quantity of soil wasn't really needed, a few bags would suffice. And so a few bags of dirt joined a few bags of coins, bank notes, and precious gems. Away from the Estate, if she needed these it was because she was escaping and he himself was gone. Unlikely, frustratingly and depressingly unlikely, but one could hope.

And so they were tucked away, stored like a squirrel would store its treasure of nuts, in an emptied rusted cistern atop an aged industrial building, alongside railroad tracks. Far enough from the city that they were undamaged, in use by trains racing past the wreckage of London on their way to distant places. No human could manage it, but even weak and newly-made, Seras could easily travel the many miles to the hoard well before midnight. Catching a speeding train posed more of a problem but she could do so if she exerted herself...and with the paladin behind her, exert herself she would!

She'd be miserable in the Chunnel but the trip was brief and with her soil, she would manage well enough to lose herself on the mainland.

Such a ridiculous amount of effort to go through. Nearly evening already, and he was ridiculously weary with these ridiculous preparations. But this responsibility was now finished. Should he be bested again, the Police Girl he'd brought into death would have a fighting chance to evade the Paladin...hopefully to meet him again a century distant, full of her own power and confidence and ready to battle on her own terms.

xx x xx x xx

"Paladin?" Sleepy and confused blue eyes (they'd be red soon, but not yet, not for this baby vampire) grew vague as she processed the information.

"Yes." Alucard managed to roll a nearly obscene level of pleasure from that single sibilant word, eyes half-lidded at the the thought of his foe so very close, at the potential, probable battle that he saw coming. "And should he come while I am gone, or should he succeed, you cannot stay here. You were saved from his blades once already, I have no doubt you'd prever to avoid a repetition." A touch of scorn barely touching the bloodthirsty monster's voice. He'd never understood her human desire to avoid conflict when not necessary...though he reveled in her ability to become immersed in carange when it was needed! "So...I have placed what you will need close to an escape for you. Do not pause to take anything...not even to gather your Harkonnen or coffin or any foolish thing you must have. Run. Return later if you choose, when you are a full Draculina, but do not squander what I have given you so soon."

That he'd cared enough to obviously spend a few hours attempting to ensure her safety touched Seras. The monster may not show affection...but took his responsibility to his creation, to her, as seriously as his loyalty to Integra. She'd start making sure to keep a blood bag or two on her, as he already did...just in case.

To him, it was an idle snack when the urge hit. For her...it might mean the difference between a blade in the throat and a frustrated Paladin! And for tonight...she'd be studying maps, determining how to reach that stash he'd so thoughtfully provided, alternative routes if rubble impeded her travels, where the train tracks went and, just as importantly, where they did not... The computers may be powerless and unable to access the 'net but soldiers were soldiers and there would be many paper maps of London in their training areas.

Seras left to see to her studies, an ear carefully kept open for any uninvited guests, and Alucard left her to go to his Master.

xx x x xxx

It had been bound to happen. He'd reported to Master, as he was expected to, that Paladin Anderson was back in Britain. She'd been enraged, and while it had been delightful to see her so worked up and agitated, she still was not well. What would have triggered nothing but glee a mere month ago now caused him to calm her, soothe her, reassure her that he would be careful, would keep Seras away from the man, would restrain his own impulse to go find his foe and have one glorious battle. She was still replacing lost blood, her neck was healing but a spike in blood pressure would put unacceptable force on weak, barely-healed vessels. She was physically frail, whether she would admit it or not, and he left from his nightly visit roiled internally.

She'd said No. Not unexpected, but still. Forbidden him from fighting the Paladin, though at least she didn't grudge him the right to protect himself. But he was expected to FLEE...and that rankled.

Before he went back to Police Girl and her incessant questions about Integra and her worries and fussing, he'd take the time to do some solitary hunting of his own. Perhaps blowing a few ghouls away would help calm him down. He'd rather rip apart the guards at the Tower, eat the Round Table, massacre a few fools...but Master said no. So he'd hunt instead and settle his emotions with some good old-fashioned carnage.

Maybe he'd "accidentally" encounter the Paladin again? He'd keep his word and not seek the man out. But...he did want to find Abraham. He'd nearly forgotten that man in the flurry of activity that had kept him awake and moving all the day. Abraham...where would the man be? If not at Hellsing Estate... the few indulgences the man had kept, his appreciation of fine wines and theater, did not help. The dining halls where he'd sipped those fine vintages were gone with the decades, the buildings toppled ruins from the battle or from the second War. The theaters were even more removed by time. And none of them, not a single building among Abraham's old haunts, would have anything but ghouls in them now. No...he had no idea where to start the search.

But he'd begin far from where he'd found the Paladin, downwind of London, and perhaps the fickle London air would bring him that scent that so confused, distracted, and distressed him.


	5. Chapter 5

Alexander glared.

Another night, another batch of ghouls, and no appearance by Alucard. He'd been told to leave the Hellsings alone, to focus on protecting Catholics (what Catholics? They were gone or ghouled) and removing ghouls. Some of the ghouls might, after all, be Catholic...best to send their souls onward.

With Integra locked away, no one at Iscariot dared to hazard a guess on what Alucard could or would do. He might be very easy for Alexander to defeat, or he might be unrestricted, unrestrained, unpredictable...and destroy the regenerator. Any trouble by Iscariot unofficially "working" in London, without the knowledge or permission of the Crown, and Integra could be released. With that whore holding his leash, Alucard might even be sent to Rome in retaliation.

No. Better to let that sleeping dog lie. But if the monster should appear and threaten him, Alexander would destroy him and then ask forgiveness from his superiors later. He KNEW that beast was about, he'd seen those bullet holes, but the damn creature was elusive. Granted, London was enormous, but Alexander wasn't being the least bit coy or secretive. He'd expected to encounter the monster or some sign of him more than that single time.

Frustrating.

He needed to kill something. Something tall, in a red coat, undead, and absolutely vile. Barring that, the little draculina would be a nice plaything for a bit. Almost anything would be better than yet another cluster of staggering drooling mindless ghouls.

And so he found himself in the late afternoon light, outside Hellsing's gates, glaring at the dark hulk of stone, almost, but not quite, willing to disobey his superiors. He could easily get in there...find the beast (before dark? realistically...not unless he was absurdly lucky. The estate was ENORMOUS), and stake Alucard before the bloodsucker woke.

So tempting.

But no.

Angry and frustrated, Paladin Anderson stomped off, looking for ghouls or, hopefully, another vampire to slice into meat gobbets. He'd only found two of the freaked monsters and neither had put up a decent fight. Even decapitating ghouls was losing its fun and becoming monotonous.

But it was something to do.


	6. Chapter 6

I got this review and thought I'd share it here for amusement. It speaks for itself.

":Your an idiot to like stupid jubali's ugly horrible alucard x seras stories she sucks at writing she fails I f&amp;(***&amp; hate her"

Somewhere, a tree has been selflessly working to make oxygen for her. She owes that tree an apology...

The teacher in me just wants to grab the red pen...

xx x x

Hellsing Blood Ch 6

A few more nights of idle wandering, finding a few traces of living humans here and there (looters? Or fools? Both, most likely), and no real scent of Abraham anywhere. Only those frustratingly tantalizing traces. No sighting of Anderson, but plenty of traces scattered about; once, even a blade left lodged high in a tree. Old traces. Listening for the man's heartbeat was not easy, but the city was so vacant that it had still allowed him to dodge the bastard on two occasions. Having to flee the man, thanks to Integra's instructions... no. No. The embarassment and frustration... No. He'd avoid the damn (?) Paladin.

And tonight it had all gone to shit.

Abraham had returned to Hellsing...but had not entered the gates. The Estate was ringed with spells to prevent attack; the Valentine brothers had instilled a definite urge to avoid a repetition! Any vampire would now need an invitation to entire, any but himself and Seras. Abraham did not SMELL like an undead. No undertone of dry blood, no trace of grave dirt, none of the odd quirk of smell that was "vampire" and not human.

No. This was human. Hotblooded, spicey, pungently male, definitely the Hellsing, even a faint acrid trace of silver trailing behind it and a touch of the incense of a church...as always. The same as a century ago...and internally every bit of composure he'd regained fled.

If he'd left out the front gate he might even have encountered Abraham, seen that scornful, angry countenance. But he'd left on the wing and from the back. Seen. They could record, did record, everything around the Estate. Seras would know how to access them. Hellsing still had basic electrical power, running on solar power from the roof. Integra had explained to him why the men had put those ugly useless black windows there, and he had paid little attention at the time.

If they did as she'd described...he'd be seeing The Hellsing again, but with the safety of hours and a recorded image giving him a buffer.

x x xx x x

Alucard had frozen when the form had loomed into view, the black-and-white image showing the hulking figure's approach. First the top of the head, rising from the bottom of the screen, then receding, with shoulders...

The strangled sound that came from his throat would have been funny if she hadn't been horrified.

Paladin Anderson had been outside their gates, and he did not look happy.

x xx x x xx

Arthur had chased any woman he thought he had a chance of bedding. It had been one of the great differences between him and his staid, reserved, stern father.

The apple had not fallen as far from the tree as he thought. The Hellsing had sired Anderson, and now that he knew what to look for...the shape of the face, the eyes, not quite Abraham reborn but unmistakeably his bloodline.

This...changed much.

Seras... she would need to leave. The sun was nearly up, he'd guard her today but she would need to go someplace safe. Integra... Wait.

Integra was in one of the very few places in London that was still in use by mortals. Tightly sealed up, impregnable to any wandering ghouls and nearly as inaccessible to freaks. Reached only by helicopter, it was the outpost by which the city was monitored. And it stored Integra Hellsing, and thus her pet vampires, far from the rest of Britain.

The guards would be nearly worthless against Anderson. Integra would be more use than they, and she was nearly an invalid! Seras... Seras would at least slow the man down, possibly give him time to arrive to battle the Paladin.

She hated traveling by his portals. Well, she would NOT be staying here today, she would be guarding Integra. And the mortal, awake during the day, would be guarding his creation.

x xx x xx x

Integra could only stare. Alucard was grinning at her shock, his shark teeth gleaming as he enjoyed her response. Seras looked embarassed and uncomfortable, nearly staggering out of the portal behind him. And no wonder... her coffin was on her back, nearly bending her double as she tried to balance it. What was SERAS doing here? With a coffin? Alucard was expected but in the evenings, not when it had to be nearly dawn!

"The Paladin came by the Estate during the day." Smug anticipation now...damn bloodthirsty beast. "I don't trust him." A sneer, eyes sparkling above it. "No, I misspeak. I trust him to be lusting for your death, and that of Seras. So she shall be here to guard you."

"You will NOT be finding him to fight him." He was NOT ditching Seras here to justify his chance to go battle the Paladin. There was far too much at stake here; the traitor on the Council, the accusations against her, the daily deterioration of London, the ghouls and freaks and whatever they planned, and the Estate. It had information that a common thief should never have access to, and if Section 13 got their grubby paws on it... No.

Begruding agreement, the slight dimming of those glowing red orbs as her vampire nodded. "Fighting him...will not be an issue."

An odd response, what did he...

That damned bastard. She was left to scowl at the swirling black portal as it closed, and Seras shifted nervously from foot to foot, abandoned by her Master to his own, very irate Master!


	7. Chapter 7

No, I haven't forgotten this story. I just haven't had time to do much to it! Look for another update around Christmas when I have a break.

z zo xo ox z

"I always knew you were a bastard. I just didn't realize how very right I was." The soft, silky, taunting voice drifted down from the rooftops, freezing the Paladin in his tracks. "So tell me, did your dearest mother ever tell you who your father was? Or did she even know?" Rich with amusement, the voice fell from a new roof, the monster itself invisible against the background of stars.

Anderson idly realized that he'd never been able to see the stars like this before the city had been wiped out. There was still a bit of pollution to remove, which he'd do as soon as the damned bloodsucker gave him a decent shot.

"Did she get a name before she spread her legs for him?" Musing, the voice migrated again, now resting somewhere on the cupolas of a decorative office building. "Was she even willing? Did you start your life in sin as a child of rape? Or was she merely a slut?"

"STAND STILL, YE BASTARD!" Spinning, Anderson searched the rooftops vainly, before vanishing in a flurry of papers to reappear next to a likely-looking chimney, where a red-clad vampire should be lounging in the shadows.  
And the voice now drifted up, from the alleys below.  
"Did she hop in bed as willingly as you hop about the city chasing me? I do apologize, but I won't be gracing your bed. Unlike your mother's, it will remain empty."

He had very few memories of his mother, but those he had were deeply cherished. For the few years he'd had her, he'd known how very much he was loved. She'd wanted a child, had told him plainly that she'd loved his father, but they'd been unable to marry. And he yelled as much back to the monster.

"Aye, she knew my father, ye bastard!" (and how had the vampire come by that information, that he'd been born out of wedlock, with a father who had seen him only a handful of times? That he'd been far too young to remember, still in diapers and with a bottle the last the man had come to see them?) "Knew him an' loved him. I'm no unwanted beast, groveling to the Hellsings, biting a young woman to try and make a family of me own. You're an undead bastard, you'll never know love."

He almost felt a touch of guilt at that. Vampires were desperately lonely monsters in their own way. They'd create a child to relieve that, then the child would leave them almost immediately. Dracula himself, were the tales to be believed, had trapped his three Brides with him to keep them around! Ridiculing the vampire would be rubbing salt in a wound the beasts rarely acknowledged, but he was good and mad and righteous fury would leave the vampire wounded.

Except the beast ignored his taunt. "Knew him and loved him so much they went to the church together." Cold, cold laughter, now from the dark entrance of another building. "Gave her a ring, said their vows before God and all." A snicker, now. "A bastard. A right, true bastard in all senses of the word. And you really have no idea who he was." A touch of wonder at that.

"A nobleman, rich, I know that much. Unable to wed the woman he loved due to his station. But he provided for us." Peering down, Anderson sought that flash of red. Talking to the beast might just distract it long enough for him to find it, plant a bayonet or fifty in its grinning face. He had no shame of his parentage. He'd been an innocent babe, none of it his choice or decision. What he'd had power to control, he'd done well at. So he'd let the beast think it had hit a nerve.

"Provided for you, did he?" The voice was calm, even, but with an undertone of bitter amusement. "Sent her a bit of cash, his own private kept woman, his little personal whore. Or was it hush money, to keep her from blackmailing a fine, upstanding man with the truth about his dalliances?"

"You may be a depraved irresponsible monster, but my father took care of our needs. I got an education, food, all I needed." Until his mother had died... and his voice caught a bit at the memory. The vampire noticed.

"And yet, our little orphan Paladin's mother wasn't there anymore. Did she kick you out when the money stopped coming? Were you in the way, when she brought in other men to entertain?" The vampire actually sounded CURIOUS. It also sounded like it was still in the same place as the previous question.

"She died. I went to an orphanage. He continued to send money there until I was twelve." Listen... listen... had the vampire moved?

"Twelve, eh? And when was this?" YES. Still in the same place! Well, perhaps his age would shut the monster up. Time to make sure he had several bayonets ready to throw, and Anderson felt about inconspicuously to double-check his preparations.

"Just past the turn of the century."

"Ah, I see." The damn vampire was nearly laughing now, and from a new alley, too! Scowling, Anderson used the pages to step down to street level at the mouth of the alley. No good, the voice now echoed from precisely the same roof he himself had just been on.

"He'd married and had his legitimate son. You were no good to him then. A little bastard he was happy to sweep aside at the first opportunity." Smug, the beast was SMUG. And not wanting to engage in any hand-to-hand or bayonet-to-lying-undead-mouth combat, or the bullets would have been flying already.

"And you know this, how?" The beast didn't know, but it was old, intelligent, evil, and a good guesser. If he had a brother, it was news to him. He'd just figured his father had died or something else had happened. There had been a few vicious strains of flu in those years, and that and whooping cough had taken a few of his orphanage companions. To him, it had seemed obvious that his father had also succumbed, or died from a heart attack, or similar. He'd never considered that he'd been... ABANDONED... after a dozen years of regular support and his yearly birthday card. No, his father had perished somehow.

"I know this because I was in England then. And I was a nobleman, and the Hellsings had been ennobled. I "rubbed elbows" with your darling father and met his womanizing son too. You ARE your father's son and there is no mistaking it; you carry the family looks. No wonder he kept you hidden away and left you in the orphanage. Anyone who saw you would have known immediately that he'd been sleeping with whores. You were discarded when a real son came along, one to carry on his family title. He got you on your mother, who knows how many others he fathered, only to discard you when he finally took a fertile spouse and made legitimate children."

Cackling, the vampire was caught unawares when the infuriated Paladin suddenly appeared beside him in a flurry of pages. Surprised or not, there was nothing wrong with his reflexes...and Anderson was left with two blades embedded in the crumbling brick wall and a vampire that had vanished well away. Fast, the monster was fast...and he'd kill him. He'd find the beast's coffin, dig it up, impale Alucard, take the blade out, and repeat again a few million times.

Brilliantly red, thoroughly smug eyes glowed in the halls under Hellsing as Alucard looked back on the encounter with great fondness.

Abraham's bastard had the same pride as his father and the same blindness to that weakness. And he'd had no idea that he was a Hellsing, either. Abraham wouldn't have abandoned his son, most likely the money had been stolen away before it reached the orphanage or even afterwards. But the timing was delicious. A precise year would have been nice to have known, but Arthur's birth was close enough to fit the timeframe he'd been told...and a perfect way to taunt his old foe.

No, he might not be able to tangle with him in blood and pain like he longed to...but Integra had said nothing about VERBAL sparring and he was definitely counting this as a win.


	8. Chapter 8

Another glorious message from our Jubali-hater. BTW, if you haven't read Jubali's work, I do recommend it. I got yet another rambling hate-filled near-incoherent drunken rant from the troll, which reminded me to look up Jubali and see what she's written lately. She started off with good ideas and average writing skills and has polished those skills to be one very entertaining read! If you like mine, I hope you enjoy her stories too.

x zo oz ox xo

Now it was personal. He didn't CARE what his orders were, he WAS going to find that taunting bastard and stake him. Between the chase and the taunting, his blood was up and the vampire's needed to be spilled. To have the vampire vanish, without a single blow exchanged...

Infuriating.

By morning, Anderson had reached a decision and the heavy step of his boots was echoing around the empty front hall of the Hellsing manor. Somewhere below him, that smug bastard was sleeping. He knew he'd find the monster. His only real debate was whether or not he'd wake it up and let it see what was coming right before the bayonets sliced the vampire into little bits!

He hadn't counted on the vampire being hidden. Sure, the stairs to the basement were easy to find. And they led down to a series of very prosaic rooms; a wine cellar, a few filled with dusty stored furniture, one with canned fruits and vegetables entombed in ancient dusty jars, a few that were simply empty barring an archaic woven rat-trap in the corner.

There had to be more, a lot more, than what he found. A building that enormous and old would not have a mere half-dozen small rooms, there had to be an enormous complex of rooms somewhere! But a few hours of pushing on likely-looking stones and searching for some sort of hidden entrance into the rest of the basement, and he had no luck at all. Time to try the upper hallways again. The entrance was somewhere. And he still had most of a day to find it.

Booted feet beat a path down each hallway, searching for a wall that seemed out-of-place, a baseboard that didn't line up with the others, for anything. The house was so vast. If he didn't find an entrance from this bottom floor, he'd have to give it up, at least for now, and bring back help. It was too much for one person to search. But this floor, he could search this one today. He hoped. 

Nothing obvious. The entrance was too well-hidden for his casual perusal to find. No worn carpet marked it, no gap in baseboards, nothing obvious at all. Time to start checking the pictures. There were some enormous slabs of portraits in this house, ordered by nobles with money to spare and walls to fill. The Hellsing family didn't have a long history to provide a few dozen generations of portraits and had apparently chosen to compensate for the low number of portraits with size.

Integra's portrait graced the downstairs foyer, glaring down at anyone standing there with icy-blue eyes. Traveling up the stairs beside her portrait (which had nothing behind it but an expanse of blank wall and a surprised spider), he paused to check out a second one. A stern older man, a young woman whose cold expression reminded him of Integra, and a child, barely more than an infant, whose expression was not the vague pleasantness a babe should have. No, it was the same arrogant, confident glare of the mother.

Integra hadn't changed much over the years. That woman must have been her mother, the man Arthur Hellsing. From what he'd heard, he was surprised the man hadn't been painted with a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a cigar in the other. Interesting, but no different than the other portrait, sans spider.

At the top of the stairs, a grand set of doors opened to reveal an equally grand room, spacious and imposing and with one end nearly filled by a giant desk heaped with paperwork, a scummy teacup whose tea had long since evaporated, and a fine china plate with a scattering of moldy crumbs. The giant portrait on the wall, also of Arthur, held nothing of interest behind it, either. He was a bit older in this one than in the one downstairs, but still recognizably Arthur Hellsing (assuming that he was correct about the one on the stairs being Arthur). It was the other portrait; smaller, older, and an actual photograph, that was different.

The frame was simple dark wood, nothing glamourous, nothing befitting a noble. It stood out partly because it hung beside the desk, the only adornment on that entire wall. It stood out partly because it was so very simple and plain, lacking the thick hand-carved and gilded frames, the ostentatious size of the others. Mostly it stood out because the person looking back at him was himself.

No scar. And not as he was now...but how he'd look if his body had been allowed to age another decade or two. Same eyebrows, same jawline, same hairline although somewhat receded. Same EYES. There were a few small differences he noted after several minutes of shocked staring.

Sitting in the overstuffed, tufted leather office chair, he noted the obvious lack of a scar. A slight difference in the nose...this man had broken his a few times, and it showed. The ears were different, too. No resemblance there, at least not in the little the picture showed. Too small, too flat, no earlobe to speak of. The cheekbones...a bit different there too.

Curious, and shocked, his broad flat fingers carefully worked the picture loose, unclasping the back, removing the backing, easing it up and out. Without the glare of the frame, it was even easier to see.

Alucard...he'd said he looked like his father, that people would know whose son he was. If this wasn't his father...then his father must have had a twin brother. For the picture to be in the Hellsing home, Alucard had been well acquainted with the man, not a casual social connection. And from the age and where it was found...he had a sinking feeling he knew whose face was in that photograph.

On the back, in the beautiful copperplate writing of the time, was the name "Abraham Hellsing" and the date, 1902.


	9. Chapter 9

Well, I finally updated it again… 

Red eyes slitted open. With a good full day's rest in his coffin, and a splurge on blood bags before sleeping…he was sated. Content. Optimistic, even, about what the evening might contain. Another chance to harass the Paladin, maybe a few batches of ghouls to render into dust and lakes of blood, perhaps, just maybe, a Freak would show up or, though the likelihood was vanishingly small, an actual vampire. A challenge.

If he was truly lucky, Integra might even give him a drop of blood. Injured and grumpy, it wasn't likely…but….

It was in this state of optimism that he woke, only to have it come crashing down as he exited his basement, coming through the wall into a face full of Abraham's scent.

X xx xxx xx x

He'd been reading the Bible, taking refuge in the familiar passages, biding time as the shadows stretched down the wall and the sky outside darkened. The shadows stretched farther than they should, and he was unsurprised to see Alucard stepping silently through the wall. The demon's eyes were hidden behind the preposterous glasses it favored, and they exchanged silent stares as the seconds ticked by. Then the monster's face began to slowly stretch into a sharp, pointy, gleeful grin…and with a cackle, the vampire dropped through the floor before Alex had the chance to form a single word.

Not long after, the feeling of the building…changed. Became lighter, less oppressive. The pointy-fanged bastard had left, eh? Time to pay him back for the laughter and a dozen other slights…and do a little exploring.

A matching grin on his face, Anderson set out to find the monster's lair.

X xx x x xx xx xxx

Oh, this was rich, the Paladin now confronting the fact that he was part of the very family he'd hated and loathed! Not so pleasant, tracing the scent to Integra's... INTEGRA'S! office to find that man sprawled comfortably in HER chair. And looking far, far too like Abraham, when he'd entered that office far too often in the past. Disconcerting. Unnerving.

He had a Master and a child to tend to. Integra and Seras would need something to do; he was under no illusions about Sera's compatibility as a conversational partner for Integra. But she was intelligent enough and gaining a vampire's natural skills…Chess. Yes, Integra could teach her to play chess. A decorative chess board, the very one he'd used to teach Arthur, disappeared from a shelf in the study. And food. Integra would have had dinner, they didn't stint her on meals, but Seras would not eat the guards. Pity, that. A handful of cold bags were tucked into pockets, and then he disappeared.

X xx x xx x

Seras was company, at least. And the girl did try…but having her there still made Integra want to scream. She understood WHY Alucard had placed his child with her; safety for them both. It didn't mean either of them was happy about it. And it was with an out-of-place sense of relief that she saw his form step through the swirling wall. The expected demonic grin was absent, but he had something unexpected in his hands. A carved wooden box, and if she wasn't mistaken, it looked a great deal like the wooden chess set. A round of chess against Alucard would be a welcome break. She'd spent far too much time reading and needed something more cerebral and active.

"Seras, have you learned how to play Chess?" His baritone voice, always tinged with that amusement that indicated he was in on some great joke that no one else could get, put a puzzled look on Seras's face.

"Um…I know the rules…but…ah…I don't play…"

"You'll learn. As a vampire, the same abilities that let you anticipate and correctly predict the moves of an enemy to put a bullet in its head will help you on a chess board." Casually, he tossed the elegant but slightly battered box on her coffin, pulling a small cringe from both Seras and Integra. "But first…a meal. You are guarding Integra and I insist you be at full power."

Integra was amused to see the slight flare of indignation in the younger vampire's eyes. Seras had been faithfully eating each night, determined to do well, and hadn't appreciated that reference to her initial starved state. She'd learned, and in fact had been fretting to Integra about being hungry! It didn't take long for the smaller monster to drain a few bags of liquid plasma, matched bag-for-bag by her maker and with a final bag left aside as a "snack".

She was less amused to find out that Alucard expected HER to take on the task of teaching HIS child how to play chess! She was no teacher, but she caught the slightly crushed and disappointed look on Sera's face when she began to refuse.

X xx x xx xxx

He was well pleased when he left his two charges. Both were bent over the chess board, Integra patiently explaining (for now) the beginnings of strategy. She could use a lesson in patience…this activity would develop useful skills in both women.

As for him… he needed a useful activity himself. He didn't want to leave the house unwatched with the Paladin wandering about it, Hellsing though the man (unfortunately) was. It was large enough that he could keep well out of sight. Teasing Anderson was its own special joy, but having him stomping about the house like Abraham, instead of shouting in a dark alley, was a different matter. It choked the words in his throat.

Chess. A favorite past time of his own, though finding a worthy opponent was a struggle. He'd always been talented at strategy, and the addition of vampiric skills meant that very few humans gave him any sort of challenge. One of Arthur's few positive traits had been his ability to do exactly that. As a vampire, without a decent opponent, it was often more entertaining to simply play a game against himself.

And so he went to the study, listening to Anderson's heavy steps on the main floor below him, to pull out a very fine, intricate chess set and set out a game of his own. He'd been beaten once by Arthur, and had been quite impressed with the man's gambit to accomplish the win. Dissecting each move and the theory behind it would be an entertaining way to pass the remainder of the night in his home. A small table was pulled up to a window, a final bag of blood tossed carelessly on the corner to eat later, and the intricate chess set carefully arranged in the square of moonlight that played across the room.


	10. Chapter 10

He'd listened to Anderson stomping about downstairs for hours, with the man grumbling under his breath and the occasional thud and clatter as the Paladin bulled about the manor. The man was persistent in his search for the lower chambers. Anderson would find the entrance to Seras' room eventually, but his own chambers were well-hidden with very few entrances. Anderson might find the mirror that served as a doorway, but as the man had thumped past it a half-dozen times already, it wasn't likely. Just to be on the safe side, it would be best to move his coffin…there was a gap behind a wall that could only be reached by going through the wall. A broken pipe had washed away a decent amount of soil before being fixed. It hadn't been a structural issue, and so behind a wall, under the kitchen, was an entirely unreachable grim and crumbly and dirty hole.

It only took a few moments to move the coffin through the wall into that little area. Even if Anderson managed to find his home, there wouldn't be much there. The man didn't seem the sort to randomly destroy books and furniture, after all.

And then he settled back down to work through a few more moves on the chessboard. A chess game, full stomach, a comfortable chair, the knowledge that his Master and offspring were secure, and a frustrated and irritated Palading blundering about below him made it a decent night after all.

X xx x xx xxx

He hadn't found the monster. He hadn't found the monster's lair. He'd found *A* lair, but the handful of uniforms, a brush, a picture of a few police officers (she'd been on the police force?), a few books, and a selection of pop music on a media player meant it belonged to the little blonde harlot. No coffin, though. And Alucard's rooms were apparently very well hidden indeed.

He'd been up all the previous day, much of the previous night, and all that night. He COULD head back to a battered church and sleep in the rectory…but…he WAS tired. And staying there just might tempt Alucard out where he could toss a few bayonets into the bastard. Integra's room…no. It would infuriate the monster but it was a lady's room and, Hellsing witch or no, he would not use it. A building this large had to have plenty of extra bedrooms, he just had to find one. He'd seen several doors up by the office, and that would be a good place to start.

He found a linen closet, what appeared to be an art room with a few instruments shrouded in white or locked in cases, excepting a grand piano polished until it glowed, with a few ancient pieces of music on its stand. He couldn't see Integra ever bothering to play. Maybe Walter had? Enough wondering, he had a bed to find. The next room down was a billiards room, with the table and a few armchairs covered in dusty white shrouds. The shelves were stocked with a variety of games, almost all of them some sort of strategy game, from Backgammon to Chess. Well, he couldn't picture a Hellsing playing "Sorry" or any silly party game.

One of the chess games had been left out in front of a window. It was an excellent set, and he wandered over for a better look. Yes, an excellent set indeed. The rooks were intricate elephants with curtained enclosures atop them, the King and Queen had crowns set with tiny chips of color, and he doubted it was mere colored glass. Old, old ivory, to judge by the rich cream color, and deep black ebony for the other side.

The game that was set up, interupted in the middle of play, was…interesting. What was the Queen doing THERE? It was vulnerable to a…No. No, the knight was available to block that. Not even noticing what he was doing, he pulled up the chair to stare at the pieces, mind slowly turning over what the two mystery players had been doing. The game was as intricate as the pieces.

And that was when he noticed the lack of dust. The table itself was dusty, and the arms of the chair, as expected of a home left empty for weeks. But…the board was spotless, free of any speck of dust, the pieces quite recently pulled from their felt-lined resting places. Who? Seras was not the sort he'd ever picture at a chess board. Checkers, perhaps. He might be mistaken, having only met her a few times, but…that sort of active, bouncy personality would not sit for a game that lasted hours.

Had Alucard been playing? Against whom? Was there another vampire about? And what would a VAMPIRE want with a CHESS BOARD? They were monsters, they lived to fight and slaughter and gorge. There was nothing about a chess board that would tempt such a beast.

He was too tired to think. This would make much more sense after a long time spent horizontal. Lumbering up from the comfortable armchair, he set out again to find a decent bedroom. And only two doors down, he found it. Everything was covered in shrouds, which meant that the mattress was blessedly free of dust. Even the pillows fluffed easily. The dark, heavy, masculine furniture was rich with tasteful woodcarvings, and he was surprised to see that much of it was in a religious motif. Yes, this was the perfect room for him. And…best of all… the door next to the enormous bed opened up on a private washroom. Old-fashioned, with small tiles and a clawfoot tub and a toilet of ancient design, but it all worked. A glass in the medicine cabinet was quickly rinsed of dust and he had a final drink before bed. There was even a bathrobe, old and smelling vaguely of mothballs, but clean and thick and comfortable, folded in the wardrobe.

So tired…but…one last thing. He'd been wearing these same clothes for days. He'd arrived with only a small amount of luggage and had left that behind when he came to the manor. He couldn't do much for cleaning them, but an old and dried bit of soap worked into a slight lather with effort and he did at least a half-hearted attempt at rinsing out the dirt and grime and cleaning a few of the worst spots. They could dry hanging in the bath. Those few final minutes of effort had been the last he could manage. Eyes sagging, he fell into the bed just as the sky outside began to lighten.

X xx x xx x xx

It wasn't the best of places to sleep. He wanted to be in his grand, dark, echoing chamber, not this dinky dirty hole. But, without a Hellsing to guard him (from a Hellsing, no less!), he'd take what he could. It was silent, secure, and with a little effort and a bit of dirt-moving, just large enough to set his coffin down. That damn Paladin was still upstairs. God only knew what the man was doing…but….he was tired. Mentally cursing the man was somewhat cheering, and a day's rest in the coffin was welcome. Alucard settled comfortably on the ancient silk lining and fell into the sleep of the dead.


	11. Chapter 11

Quiet, yes, but lacking the vast echoing sense of his chambers. Small, muffled…where was he? Ah. The wall… THAT BASTARD. The Paladin had forced him out of his own chambers!

Had those chambers been discovered? Cautious, cautious…the man may have trapped them, be lying in wait…

And so his head dangled down from the ceiling in the corner, to find the room as empty and bare as ever, with no scent but his own and the faint lingering traces of his offspring, Integra, and Walter. Landing silently in the center, he took a long gaze about the room. Undiscovered…good. And that meant that his unwanted guest would likely spend the night searching for it!

Where was the bastard, anyways?

Not in the office, though it fairly reeked of him. Nor the halls, nor Integra's room, any of the recreational rooms…nowhere. The man had likely left, frustrated at not discovering his favorite vampire, and said vampire's face went from a motionless mask with a slightly furrowed forehead into a more relaxed grin. Poor Paladin, how he must have suffered, knowing the vampire was so close, and yet unfindable! No sounds of footsteps, nothing. Time, then, to visit his child and Master.

A few more blood bags tucked into his pockets. Seras…she was a reader, and Master would be asleep. A brief stop at the library. He doubted she'd be willing to read anything very intense; Seras saved her intensity for her work, and was more frivolous in pursuits outside of that. Some Greek mythology might suit her well. Entertaining, short stories and a way to broaden her education. He himself hadn't ever met any Greek gods but was honest enough that he didn't discount the possibility. Odder beings existed. Integra might even find a bit of enjoyment in reading the stories she'd been assigned as a child.

X x xx x xx xx xxx

Integra might find joy in the stories but there was no joy in her face when Alucard arrived. A chess piece (rook?) careened off the wall behind him.

"You lying bastard, you set me up!" Glacial blue eyes snapped at him, and shocked baby-blue eyes stared beseechingly at him from the corner. He had no idea what his Master was upset about. A bit annoying, that he'd accidentally upset her when deliberate attempts so often failed…and concerning, that she'd strain herself so in anger. Time to appease her and calm her down, then he could find out what had happened…and save it to repeat some time in the future when it would only risk her temper and not her health.

"I assure you, I have no idea of what you are talking about." Insultingly large, his grin spread across his face, a silent admission at odds with his speech. But…it faded as he waited to find out just what had conspired to make Master so infuriated.

"You, you… Bastard!" (interesting choice of words considering his recent encounters). "I spent HOURS teaching her chess and strategy and it was on BASICS and then she WINS. You knew damn good and well that she was a chess player and you SET ME UP! Wasted MY TIME and HER TIME for your own amusement!"

Oh. HAD Seras lied to him? Not likely at all…and an inquisitive look was met with vehement shaking of her strawberry-blonde hair. No…she'd been the novice she'd claimed. Sir Integra, even out-of-practice, was no slouch on a chess board. Seras had WON? Intriguing…

"Seras…how did you win?"

"I…ah…I…I moved the pieces like she showed me."

"You'd never played Chess before?"

"Ah…no… as a kid…Dad taught me to play but I had barely learned…I wasn't even in school yet…"

And yet she'd won? Unlikely, but…interesting. HOW? Waiting, he let the silence build from him as Integra speared Seras with an icy glare until his offspring began babbling again.

"I was, um, in strategy for the police, um, I always got top scores. And I played Risk and Settlers of Catan and stuff until the others quit playing with me." A black eyebrow lifted, and the silence drug on. "I, um, I won a lot." Both eyebrows lifted.

She had unexplored depths. Not the brightest of people, but not stupid, certainly competent and capable but lacking that flash of brilliance. Except that she had a well-concealed flash of brilliance hidden behind juvenile books and superficial interests. She was a planner. With luck, she'd be a PLOTTER and a co-conspirator and occasionally a competitor. That natural talent, added to her vampiric abilities….

X xx x xxxx xx x

That asshole was laughing, absolutely gleeful, at tricking her, and Integra was about to scream at him again until he calmed himself down and explained. 

"It would appear our Police Girl is quite the strategist. Combine that with her vampiric talents and a capable instructor and she's a chess prodigy." Gloating, gleeful, pointy-toothed grin; she wanted to punch it. "I did not truly mean to set either of you up but this was unintentionally educational." He calmed further, red eyes peering at her over his glasses. "You taught a latent chess prodigy how to play chess. None of us knew that would be the case. It's nothing to be angry about, I swear it is unintentional. Amusing," and that grin crept back, "but unintentional. So please stop terrifying my Police Girl."

Looking to the corner, she saw a wide-eyed Seras trying to look as small as possible. A vampire, frightened. And…the amusement struck her. Really, no harm had been done to anything but her pride. And Seras didn't deserve her anger, it wasn't the girl's fault she was suspiciously gifted at chess.

"Come on out. I won't bite. But the next time we play, you'll spot me a bishop." That would even things out nicely as the third time they'd played, Seras had wiped out her Queen in record time. The girl would likely be a challenge for Alucard, maybe even take the smug bastard down a few rungs in arrogance. Yes, she was sagging slightly in relief as she came forward. They'd spent most of the previous night playing chess…what had Alucard been doing? 

She should have known. It was on a short list of things he was likely to do when unsupervised. Killing sprees and terrifying…with London and the Estate empty, not doable. No television or computer access with no power and no signal. That left him listening to a dozen worn old records…no…not without power. The only turntable was electric. Sometimes painting or playing a piano, very likely with no one about for he hated to be observed doing either of those and would destroy any canvas he created rather than show it to them.

Her father had once force the vampire to show what he'd painted. Father's notes had said that it was a very detailed, intricate ballroom during a gala, as seen from the second or third story above it, very old-fashioned and well-done but nothing at all incriminating…not what he'd expected to see. Alucard had destroyed it immediately afterwards and it hadn't been until she'd taken over as Master that the monster had done any more painting. Perhaps her father had regretted his actions, there were no clues in the notes he left, but it had absolutely stifled Alucard's interest in art.

The piano, surprisingly, he'd barely touched. The billiards table as well. But having started Seras on chess, the monster had pulled out his own board to play. Not truly his, but the one he invariably selected, and it had become "Alucard's chess set" in her father's time.

Refreshingly non-destructive. And he even swore he hadn't been leaving the estate to go find the Paladin to fight him, either. She filed that away under "Highly Suspicious" and then relaxed to watch Alucard and Seras sit themselves at the chess board. Seras immediately got up to go retrieve the handful of pieces that had been flung about the room, and then a quiet game began in earnest. Before long, she was well-immersed in the myths of Perseus.


	12. Chapter 12

(yes, I'm still wanting to write...I just lack time!)

Past midnight. Seras was an interesting chess companion, not capable of seeing more than a few plays ahead but able to see those potential plays quite clearly. He'd enjoyed a solid game with her, given her a bit more coaching, but...he needed to leave.

The Paladin would likely be back at some point after dawn; as a human, it was improbable that Anderson would choose to return in the hours before sunrise. He'd prefer to stay with his two charges; watching them interact was proving to be more amusing than expected. Master was a natural leader, Seras a natural follower, and Seras was absorbing the guidance of the older woman like an undead sponge. A smirk curled his lip at that thought, and he made his farewells to return to the estate.

Anderson had woken well past sunset. More tired than he'd thought, the bed more comfortable than expected for something so old, and the room more welcoming than it had any right to be, and he'd slept the full day and into the night. There was none of that faint sense of evil to show that the resident vampire was indeed in residence, and it was with a more pleasant frame of mind that the Paladin went into the bathing chamber. Well, why not? He certainly needed a good cleaning himself after the last few days. A bit of judicious raiding of nearby rooms resulted in soft, clean, almost ridiculously fluffy and enormous towels and shampoo. The soap, though, was...floral. Not strongly floral, for he could no more picture Integra Hellsing using a flowery shampoo than he could picture Alucard doing so. But still, it wasn't something he found at all appealing.

That little scrap of soap he'd found in "his" bathroom would have to do, then. Despite its age, it had retained a pleasantly musky odor and he stepped out of the shower feeling far more refreshed. He'd uncovered an old straight razor and strop and the bowl and shaving brush to accompany them. After a few minutes of sharpening and some very determined mixing, he'd gotten a decent foam and a much-needed shave.

The vampire was still missing...and...why not? He'd found the laundry on his previous searches, or at least, A laundry. He rather doubted that single set of washer and dryer was anywhere near sufficient for the needs of the entire manor, but it was handy and would work. At least there was the robe. Having Alucard find him wandering around the manor as God had made him would have been frightfully embarassing to downright dangerous; he needed a way to carry his swords, after all! His dirty clothes swished gently in the humming washer, and he stared at the suds, lost in thought for a bit, before leaving to tidy up "his" rooms and go to the office.

He was a Hellsing? No, not a Hellsing, never that. Never raised here, never bred here, he'd escaped that bit. But...he did share an inescapable bit of DNA with Integra. His...Niece. He had a niece. Family. This...was a great deal to think on, and it was with that in mind that he returned to the office, wanting to learn more about his...father.

He was walking pensively back to "his" rooms when he came face-to-face with a very startled Alucard. 


	13. Chapter 13

(toddlerbeast slumbers...so...a quick update!)

Abraham looked surprised...and then angry. What had he done, or not done? For a few moments, Alucard's brain raced about frantically, trying to determine what he had done to fail The Hellsing enough to put a look of anger on the man's face. Distaste and scorn were normal, anger was not, what HAD he done?

And then his brain gained some traction and he realized, that no matter what his eyes and nose were telling him, it wasn't Abraham. How had that Papist (literal) bastard found Master's bathrobe? Master's soap? Had he been in The Hellsing's ROOM? Almost aghast at the sacrilege...it was ABRAHAM'S room, no matter that the man had been gone the better part of a century, Alucard went there immediately. His worst fears were realized when the room no longer held the dusty, dry scent of an unused chamber...but the active, living odor of a room in use. The scent of shampoo, the bed, undraped and somewhat ruffled, the half-open bathroom door... NO.

-x -

As the vampire suddenly blinked and just as suddenly darted through a wall, Alexander regained his senses enough to do what he ought to have done days ago. A thud-thud sounded as a pair of sharp silver swords embedded in the wall through which the vampire had vanished, a sliver of a second too late to make their mark. The vampire had been in motion before he had, already fleeing before he could have had a reason. Cowardly beast.

He'd find that bastard and stake him out for the morning sun.

Scowling, he stomped back to "his" room. It would be an hour before his clothes had finished, and while he'd take on the vampire no matter what, he'd rather kill the evil bloodsucker properly dressed as a priest should be, not wearing someone's tattered bathrobe.

He entered the doorway to his room with a deepening scowl, with barely time to register the flash of silvered, deadly teeth arrowing towards his throat. 


End file.
